Draco's Punishment
by Are You Living In A Dream
Summary: After failing to carry out his duty ordered to him in his 6th year at Hogwarts, Draco is fixed with the most surprising punishment. He is to spend a year in the muggle world without a bit of magic! How he survives up to the young squib orphan he meets...
1. Chapter 1

"The Muggle World?!"

There was no hiding the young Malfoy's outrage as he looked to his mother for some sort of relief. The letter had arrived that afternoon, while Draco had been taking his usual walk through the gardens. He hadn't thought it was necesary, he didn't think there was any way that life could resume to what it once was. But his mother had made sure that every single detail went on as if he hadn't become one of them, as if he hadn't been assigned to kill one of the most powerful wizards of their time. He would never admit it, but he was partly grateful that his mother was going through such great lengths to keep life within the manor normal. If rumors were true, things were about to become just as unmoral as they could get. Voldemort's newest plans were to move himself, and all the Death Eaters to keep the Manor as their headquarters. Draco knew for a fact that his father wasn't going to be pleased with that once they gathered him from Azkaban, but no one was going to do a damned thing about it – no one dared stand up to the Dark Lord.

But that wasn't the chief concern on Draco's mind. No. He was worried about the words written on the ghastly piece of parchment that his mother had just handed him. He wasn't important enough to be punished in person (though silently he was glad for that. If he had been forced to endure the curcio curse once more he thought that his mind would break) so the Dark Lord had sent him a letter, written in crimson ink. The scrawl on the page was familiar as he had seen it on his graded papers from time to time. Professor Snape had penned the letter, he was sure of it, even if there were no signature.

Draco –

Your punishment, as ordered by the Dark Lord Voldemort, is to spend time amounting to one year in the muggle world. You will be denied all uses of magic and your family's source of income.

His mother had handed him the slip with trembling fingers. No doubt she was upset about letting her boy go out in the world alone. Draco could care less about being alone. "No magic?!" He exclaimed, throwing a right fit as was expected. "Mother, you surely cannot let this happen! I can't go and live as one of…those…those...vile creatures!" With wide, grey eyes, the innocent ones that he knew would make her do as he willed, he turned to his mother.

Narcissa Malfoy had become even more reserved than she had ever been in the year past. With such a shock of losing her husband, and almost losing her son it was no surprise. But Draco didn't seem to pick up on that fact. His mother had never been particularly loving to him. It was improper to show too much affection, any pureblood knew that. Or…any proper pureblood knew that a distant caring for was the only way to bring up a wizard of standing.

Draco searched his mother's face, waiting for any sign that she might do something for him, but it was as if he were staring at the stone walls of the Manor. She was unyielding and as he turned back to his letter he knew he was forced to swallow the ugly truth. He would be spending a cold long year among disgusting excuses for human beings – un-evolved and stupid. He sniffed and pushed his chin up slightly, doing his best to seem strong. He would not be affected by this. He was a Malfoy. They did not lose their composures.

Yet with everything that had been happening in recent months he felt like crumbling. At one time, the beauty of the gardens had been enough to take his mind off of any of his sufferings. No matter what had been going on in his life, he could find solace here. The peacefulness offered a strange comfort, and its soft yet vibrant colors provided a stark contrast to the harsh exterior of the manor. Breathing deep he let the gentle scents caress him, soft like a mothers touch. Draco had never been that close to his mother, but he had always guessed that it would feel like that – a gentle breeze with the light scent of flowers.

His mother was watching him with sadness, though Draco could not look deep enough to identify it. Standing, Narcissa brushed a bit of grass from her robes before she spoke in a voice lacking any emotion. "You won't be seeing your father before you leave, but I will send him your greetings. The elves have packed for you. A Death Eater shall be here in the morning to direct you to the…other side." She couldn't bring herself to say the cursed word – muggle. Straitening her back she walked away, leaving Draco there with a crumpled letter and no goodbye.

Draco found himself blinking back tears. That was it? His mother wasn't going to help him? He was a grown man now, turning 17, but still to be rejected even a little bit of your mother's affection was a hard blow. Tomorrow morning. The words rang in his head. Tomorrow morning. Muggle world. For now, Draco was wishing that he would have been cursed instead of this. At least with a spell the pain would fade away. This was a year…a whole year of punishment. He didn't dare speak his thoughts out loud, or crumple the paper into a ball and burn it. No one dared suggest in the slightest that they weren't on the Dark Lord's side in these days. To do so was suicide. But if he could, he would have screamed at the top of his lungs, kicked the tree, smash the letter, burn it.

He didn't deserve this. The Dark Lord assigned him that mission knowing he would fail. He at least believed that to be true – now he did at least. The Dark Lord knew he couldn't do it. Draco couldn't kill. It bothered him to even smash a spider really, though he'd never tell a soul. No. The world would believe that Draco was just as he was supposed to be. A true Malfoy. Ruthless. But as he gazed down at his letter, he silently wished that he had at least one friend in this world. A true friend that would let him talk to.

And as he stared at the letter in his hands he wondered silently. Would anyone even miss him once he was gone to the muggle world?


	2. Chapter 2

Draco must have fallen asleep there, rested against the base of a large willow tree, because he awoke by a sharp jerk. Opening bleary eyes, he found himself looking up at a masked face. The sight almost made him cry out, but quickly he sucked in a breath. He hated those damned masks. Even if they were meant to scare only the enemy, every once in a while he would come across one unexpectedly and have the temptation to run for his life. At least he knew that they worked. He himself had not had the chance to wear one, and part of him was silently glad for that. As a young boy he had tried on his fathers. It had been much too large, yet he couldn't forget the sight of his eyes through the mask. Even in their innocence, through the metal of the mask they looked cold, hard, and calculating. The eyes of a killer, he had realized, that's what they would look like.

Shaking off the memory he forced himself to stand, hoping that he successfully hide any traces of his brief fear. He had no idea who it was behind that mask, as he realized then that it was very dark out. The moon still shone among the stars. Surely they couldn't mean that his punishment was to be started at this ungodly hour. Rubbing a hand across his neck he looked from the sky back to the Death Eater. They had already left him and had started back to the sitting room that over looked the Manor's gardens. With a light sigh he knew that he had no choice in this. He had to force himself from the spot, almost command his feet to move – they wouldn't do it on their own. Slowly he let his eyes roam over the gardens, doing his best to memorize every detail of them. Every flower, every petal, the light scent, and the way the leaves rustled in the gentle breeze. A year. A whole year stuck in a hell hole. Without thinking about it, his eyes drifted down to his left arm.

Draco could still feel the burn of the mark, could still wince remembering as he watched the ink become one with his skin. He had waited for that moment for most of his life, yet when it came there was only bittersweet regret. He had thought that once he gained the mark, he would feel proud. That his father would finally gaze upon him with some sign of respect. But his father hadn't been there, had he? No, he had been rotting in a cell. All thanks to that…Potter. He sneered even then at the name. If only he could have succeeded. If only they had brought the boy to the Dark Lord then and then…he could had watched the light fade from his eyes. That should have been the plan. But he knew better. Plans rarely worked as they were supposed to. Although Dumbledore was dead, he had failed. His pride was once again lost. His father would never look upon him with a kind word. He was as worthless as he was told he was.

He gave a violent kick to a shrub that wasn't growing as big as the others, located next to the door to the sitting room. As he entered, he didn't need to look around. His mother wasn't there; he didn't expect her to be there. But still, a small glimmer of hope he had that his mother might actually show that she cared flickered and died. As he followed where the Death Eater pointed, to a small circle drawn on the floor, he found his hands growing slick with sweat, his brow as well. He'd seen that circle before, it was to trap all of his magic, lock it away so that he had no hopes of it.

"Your wand, Draco." The Death Eater said, his voice as soft as stone as he held his palm out.

Draco was given no choice, with a grimace he pulled the slender piece of wood from his sleeve and placed it in the gloved hand. He didn't take his eyes of the ground. He didn't want his last memory of home to be a masked stranger ordering him around. No, he would remember the gentle scents of the garden.

The rest of the instructions simply…washed over him. He didn't bother to listen as they placed his wand to the circle. Its illumination hurt his eyes as he felt the last glimmer of magic leave his body. He was now no better than a worthless muggle. Wouldn't Potter love to see him now? Unable to even lift a book or unlock a door with a simple spell. The thought made him sick but he held it back. He must show no sign of emotion. If he even dared these men would eat him alive for it. There was some shred of pride in him, and Draco had every intention of keeping it.

Strangely enough, Draco felt empty without magic, almost cold. It was like a source within him was gone, like the fire that burned to keep him alive was fading out. No words were spoken as they threw his bag at his feet. A single bag. That was all the possession he was allowed. A bag to hold everything he could stuff in it. He didn't even know what it contained – the elves had most likely packed it for him. The House Elves knew him rather well, and though he never dared admit it, he was sure that they would know exactly what he would desire from his home.

"Gonna cry, little brat?" One of the Death Eaters sneered as Draco bent to lift his bag and shove it on his shoulder.

Draco lifted his chin, showing defiance, and a bit of that Malfoy pride. He was not going to cry. He swore to himself he would not let a tear fall. This was a result of his weakness, and the Dark Lord's foolish plan to bring down his father and his family. Though he felt it, he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes.

"Leave him alone." Another Death Eater snapped from the other side of the room. "Poor thing's gone through enough, and now his mother isn't even here. Shame" This one was a woman, who seemed to have a shred of compassion. But it made no difference to Draco. Her compassion was wasted on him; he had no use for it. It would gain him nothing now. "Here," the Death Eater tossed a pencil at him.

He didn't have to ask what it was, the moment he touched it he felt the pull behind his navel. So it had started. Silently, Draco was glad that they tossed it at him, so that he would be caught unaware of what was happening

(My apologies for the short chapters. Once we get more involved they will become longer)


	3. Chapter 3

"HEY, WATCH IT BUDDY!!!"

Draco dropped the pencil as he heard the sharp yell from a man who looked rather harassed. He seemed not to notice that he had simply appeared out of nowhere with a pencil in hand. "I beg your pardon..." Draco said, starting to be offended. Slowly everything around him was taking form. And the first thing he noticed was his personal space was being greatly invaded. He could almost feel the dirt rubbing off on him as people shoved past him without a care. Wherever place this was, the people here were extremely rude, and extremely stupid. Well, that much was to be expected. They were muggles.

The man looked at him as if he wanted nothing better to spit at him. Which he soon did, though it was towards his feet. "Stupid brit, take your ass out of here and go have some tea." With that he stalked away, blending back into the rush of the crowd.

Draco had once thought that Diagon Alley was crowded and disgusting, but he had quickly changed his mind. Whatever this place was, it gave it a run for its money. He didn't dare touch anything, and did his best to avoid the flow of people. If water were made of disgusting muggles in business suits then it would flow around him, just like this. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, and a certain smell...like gasoline and burnt toast. It gagged him as he tried to look around. The things on the street…those were cars. He knew that, though he had no idea why there had to be so many of them. Didn't muggles have a more efficient way to travel?

Looking to his hand he dropped the useless pencil, watching it roll and then drop into the grate. Wonderful. So he was here. Disgusting, crowded, Muggleland. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? Perhaps find out where he was? Yes. That seemed like a perfectly good plan to him as he moved to shoulder his bag and trot off. There had to be a pub of some sort…He had already gathered that he wasn't in his own county. Not only had the man insulted him, but the people around him had a very twangy accents. Oh joy. Even worse than he imagined. American Muggles. He was sure that they were a class level below British Muggles.

His feet began to grow tired as he traveled, the pavement was hot and he had already trod in two pieces of bubble gum. It was only then that he found a little corner ice cream store. There was a delicious looking treat, just calling his name, and a drink of water sounded like heaven. What sounded even better was a hot bath, complete with bubbles. But Draco had no idea when he was going to see one of those again. He still had the issue of finding a place to stay for the night.

Reaching for his bag, he hoped that the elf who packed for him had had enough sense to make sure that he was well supplied with money. But as he reached he realized his shoulder felt strangely light. His bag was gone! Tuning in a circle he glanced desperately for a sight of it, but it was really gone.

He couldn't believe it, and tears began to well in his eyes. Great. This was exactly what he needed on a day like this. "God damn it!" he bellowed so loud that it made a mother hurry her young children along.

Draco wasn't going to make it. He wasn't going to be able to survive this muggle hell hole. Had it even been an hour? He doubted it. So little time passed and he had already had his bag stolen. How was he to find a place to stay tonight? Food? Clothing? He had no way to take care of himself. This punishment was complete and utter bull shit. It just wasn't...fair. Draco felt the pout coming on, and he struggled to keep his lower lip tucked in instead of poked out. As man as he tried to be, there were times where that spoiled little boy came shining through.

"Hey, don't let this city get you down, it's a lot to see at first, but I'm sure you'll get used to it." A voice shook Draco from his trace as he quickly looked. Although his mask of perfect control had been broken, it was easily put together and back into place. Though he had to admit the somewhat kind voice started him, and contrasted sharply with the harsh shouts and sounds of horns that littered the city now.

Draco pushed his chin out, that sign of defiance coming back, as he saw who was speaking. It was a girl, about his age he would have guessed from her height. Though she looked as if she were several class levels below him. He wouldn't have wasted his time with her earlier, or even pretended that he heard her…but he was alone and moneyless now. Any help that came from anywhere couldn't really be shoved aside too quickly.

"And exactly what city is this?" He asked making sure his words were harsh, but not harsh enough to drive her away. If she was going to help him then he planned to use her for all that she was worth.

To his complete dismay, the girl giggled, sounding truly amused with him. "What city is this? Its New York...what other city could it be?"

Her flippant attitude wasn't what Draco needed at the moment. And she seemed to realize that after a brief pause. "Come on; let me get you something cool to eat. Its horribly hot outside, even for a normal day here."

If Draco wanted to offer her a rejection, he didn't have the time. She was off before he could make a noise. And with the crowd thickening with what seemed to be a five o'clock rush, Draco couldn't hesitate for very long. He almost lost her as he pushed his feet to move again. Weaving in and out of people, he felt as if he were on an obstacle course. Couldn't she have waited for him? It would have been the rational thing to do. Yet, somehow Draco got the feeling that this girl didn't do too much that was rational.

When he reached up to her, he was trying to hide the fact that he was slightly out of breath. The girl, on the other hand, seemed unphased by any of this and was currently looking around a rather rundown apartment building. Draco himself would never be caught dead in such a place, but seeing as this was the only opportunity he had to find shelter, he had little choice but to take it. Pushing his hair back from his face he hoped that this girl wouldn't notice the pink tinge to his cheeks. His skin already felt hot from the sun. He was pale, and had never been exposed to such direct sunlight for so long without any protection. Draco shuddered to think of the wrinkles he was going to get from the exposure.

Just as the silence was stretching too thin for Draco's liking, the girl spun around and looked to him, holding out her hand for him to shake. He didn't take her hand yet, as the words she had spoken earlier had finally sunk in. "New York? I'm in New York?" He hated how breathless his voice sounded. Perhaps she would mistake it for shock, which it clearly was on top of the fact he felt like he had ran a race. You didn't exactly have to be in perfect physical shape to play Qudditch. At least, not endurance and running wise…

The girl nodded, standing still long enough for him to finally get a good look at her. She was rather, wild. Yes, if Draco had to choose a word to describe her it would be wild. None of her clothes seemed to match exactly, yet somehow fit together. Her hair was tied back, yet it still managed to escape the clip and curled around her face with fly away pieces. It was black and extremely boring color. But it matched her eyes, which were green in color and rather bright. That only served to anger him. It was that stupid Potter who had eyes that color. Draco's face must have darkened at the thought, because suddenly she was very close, peering at him.

"You're a long way from home. I'm sorry. But...I know who you are. And I think that I can help you. We'll get you home, don't worry. " she leaned back and held out her hand to him. "I'm Eden; don't worry about your name. I already know."

That was the last thing he expected to hear. How would she know, of all people exactly who he was. Had his luck met up with him? If she was a witch then he would be pretty set. That was, unless she was a witch and on the other side. Suddenly he jerked back as Eden reached for him. She simply laughed at his alarm, and poked his forehead. "If you frown too much you'll get wrinkles. I'm sure your family wont like that too much. Don't worry. I know what's going on, and I'm not getting involved. If you need a place to stay, you're welcome to stay here."

Leaving him without a chance to answer was a habit of hers. Soon she turned and ran off before he had much of a chance to reply. Into the depths of a very rickety building she disappeared, leaving him a little shocked. Yes, Draco, he thought to himself, you are one lucky bastard. He might have just found the silver lining of this cloud.


End file.
